Nisus first Darts off, and, bounding with the South-wind's pace, And swift as winged lightning, leads the race.
Next, but the next with many a length between, Comes Salius; then, behind him, third in place, Euryalus; then Helymus is seen; And lo! Diores last, comes flying along the green.
XLIV.

Heel touching heel, on Helymus he hung, Shoulder to shoulder.

But a rood beside, And, slipping past him, foremost he had sprung, And solved a doubt by winning.

Side by side, The last lap reached, with many a labouring stride And breathless effort to the post they strain, When lo! chance-tripping where the sward is dyed With slippery blood of oxen newly slain, Down luckless Nisus slides, and sprawls upon the plain.
XLV.

Stumbling, he felt the tottering knees give way.
With shouts of triumph on his lips he falls Prone in the gore and in the miry clay.
E'en then, his love remembering, he recalls Euryalus.